


Angels Bleed From The Tainted Touch Of My Caress

by Accacia



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rough Sex, mention of other characters, prompt, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:39:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5838328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accacia/pseuds/Accacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys accepted the offer from Jack to rule Hyperion together. Jack wastes no time in getting a body and getting rid of Rhys' friends. As Jack tells him the news, the young man reacts in a midly violent way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Bleed From The Tainted Touch Of My Caress

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "so i had this idea where jack tells rhys that he’s airlocked the rest of the gang and rhys fucking loses it and starts beating the shit outta him, strangling him, trying to sqeeze the life out of him,but jack’s still laughing
> 
> cue obligatory rough sex ‘cause they’re both getting off on this. but afterwards jack tells rhys his friends are fine, he was just fucking with him, but rhys has guilt coiled in his gut ‘cause of how much enjoyed trying to kill someone."
> 
> [This drawing](http://kinkformer.tumblr.com/post/137997198097/so-i-had-this-idea-where-jack-tells-rhys-that-hes). :)

He's been staring at Elpis for God knows how long, observing the faint purple tint illuminate the otherwise completely dark office. It's a certain alien feeling to actually have power in his hands like he yearned all of his career climbing life on Hyperion. But now that he has it, unlimited and infinite possibilities in front of him – Rhys is very unsure of what to do. He thinks about his friends locked up somewhere in the lower levels of Helio's prison, probably furious with the announcement Jack has made and thinking Rhys was a traitor. Even worse, they were in all likelihood not even going to accept any sort of deal which would made them face Vallory and her gang. To be fair, the prison cells were the most secure place they could be right now and that made him feel a bit relieved. 

When the doors swished open, he turned around to see Jack in all of his glory – back from the dead, saying a good and audible fuck you to the grim reaper.

"Guess who's back, pumpkin?" Jack said, arms wide open with an amused grin stamped on his face. "Did you miss me, Rhysie? I bet you did."

Rhys gave the older man a weak smile, tempted to touch him to confirm how real he was but he refrains from it. Instead, he scratches the back of his neck, keeping his hands busy.

"You were gone for a long time," Rhys says, stepping closer to Jack, his boots making strangely eerie sounds on the pristine metal floor. "But I guess they weren't exactly expecting you to be... you know."

"Ah, that's where you're mistaken, kitten. People always expect amazing things from me, because that's exactly what I give 'em."

He observes the way Jack poses as if there's a photographer about to take a photo of him for one of his memorable motivational posters. Rhys rolls his eyes only slightly. At this point, he's grown accustomed to Jack's megalomania and his grand hero shenanigans. As it turns out, it doesn't bother him that much, mostly thanks to the shock therapy he's been through in this crazy journey having Jack in his head. 

"Wait. Then where were you all of this time? If they fixed you a body that quickly."

"Oh, I've been dying for you to ask me that, Rhysie. You see, I was taking care of our little... Hmmmmm," Jack pauses for a bit and mockingly puts his hand under his chin, giving into a derisive tone of voice right after. "... bandit problem."

"Bandit problem?" Rhys echoes Jack, confuse as to where the other one was going with this. What bandit problem?

"Your little bandit friends down there, in the prison. Man, you should've seen the look on their faces as I told them they were gonna die! I mean, it was just great, I guess you had to be there when I airlocked them to really understand," Jack burst into a maniac laughter that sends chills down his spine, hand grabbing his side not being able to simply stop laughing at the death of... his friends. His friends. Took a few moments to understand what that implied, all color leaving his already pale complexion.

"You... airlocked them. Into space. Airlocked them," Rhys mumbled, repeating himself a few times before looking down. Fiona, Sasha, Vaughn, even August – they'd soon be floating out of this enormous window from Jack's office, eyes bulging out from their sockets. Now Rhys wasn't a man who lost control often. Sure, he'd go on some kind of nervous ramble every once in a while, for the most part looking like an outright dork. Or so would Vaughn tell him. Or every single one of his friends, if they were alive. But not like this.

"Pumpkin, you sound kinda... distressed." The asshole had the audacity to smirk at him, rising something inside his chest that he had no willing patronage over it. To say Jack was surprised was an understatement when Rhys' flesh hand came flying over his shoulder and hitting him straight in the jaw. 

Stumbling backwards, the king of Hyperion still had the same smirk stamped in his stupid face, almost daring Rhys to hit him again. The knuckles on his hand hurt quite a bit, which didn't surprise the young man. Next punch was made with his cybernetic one, Jack's nose starting to bleed profusely – yet he wasn't fighting back.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Rhys hisses, already landing another punch with utter annoyance. No, it wasn't annoyance – it was outright fury. Jack whistles lowly.

"C'mon, kiddo, that didn't even friggin' hurt. Are you even trying?"

Rhys launches himself against Jack suddenly, face twisted in pure wrath while he started to strangle the other man under him. There was a bubbling laughter right out of his mouth, a little strained on the account of his metal fingers uncontrollably cutting the blood flow through the CEO's neck.

"Feels good, doesn't it, Rhysie?" Jack asked, trademark shit eating grin in display.

"Shut up!" Rhys spats right back at Jack, feeling that he is so beyond reason at this point he didn't want to stop. He wants to murder Jack, send him back to the land of the dead without a second thought. 

"That's... a good... look on you, pumpkin. Look at you, all bloody getting your hands dirty on Handsome Jack. Gimme your best, kiddo."

He thinks there wasn't enough anger or hatred that could stop him right now, a darkness inside branching on his insides strenuously. A growl reverberates in his chest, the pain tearing him apart piece by piece as sanity evaded him. However, this was Rhys – he never managed to not fuck up a single thing in his life, whether by weakness or pure stupidity. A voice on the back of his head said to tear the other man's throat apart, the other one desperately pleaded for him to stop. He wasn't Jack, he didn't want to be like Jack.

"Aha, this is golden, cupcake. Getting a little too excited over there, huh?" Jack pointedly glanced over Rhys' lower parts, very obviously referring to the growing hard-on in his pants. 

There was a brief moment of confusion where the company man looked down at his trousers, only to have his eyes widen at his own reaction.

His hands trembling, Rhys flung himself backwards away from Jack, almost afraid of what happened.  He is only human, he thinks, only a human. Capable of doing terrible things the voice added, capable of being just like Handsome Jack. It was unhealthy, wrong, filthy. Rhys was the spitting image of what they expected after all for the Hyperion CEO position. 

It was just wrong, he didn't feel like himself.

And to find himself reacting so eagerly to his own actions made Rhys want the floor to swallow him up.

"I don't blame you, the exhilarating feeling of someone's blood flowing under your hands, the power from being this..." Jack crawls towards the cyborg man, predatory eyes on him never breaking contact and an absolute madness glinting in his heterochromatic eyes. "... close to crushing their windpipes. You think to yourself, how have you not done this before and from there, Rhysie, there's only pure joy in murdering people."

"No, no, no... you're crazy. You... you are crazy."

"Am I now, Rhysie? Because from what I can see down your pants, there's only joy going full commando here."

"This is... I'm not..." Rhys was suddenly flustered, cheeks sharing  the same tint as his bloodied hands, his confusion and anger mixing into what Jack thinks is the most perfect thing he ever laid eyes upon. 

Rhys feels like a wide open book, extremely vulnerable when Jack closes the distance between them. Considering the proximity he’s sharing with the other man, his mind goes wild with the possibilities. Could he really be getting off from nearly killing Jack? No, his brain must’ve gotten mixed signals from his body, after all he always lusted after the CEO. All of those motivational posters on the wall of his room, so many long nights hoping that one day his fantasies would come true. Rhys couldn’t deny that his obsession with Jack had everything to do with the party going on inside his boxers, but at the same time the pent-up frustration was slowly turning into anger and... something else. With his metal arm, he grabs the back of Jack’s neck and pulls him in aggressively. "You... you make me feel... so goddamn... angry. At myself. But mostly at you."

"Oh yeah, kitten? And what exactly are you gonna do about it?"

Instead of answering Rhys pushes his mouth to Jack's into a kiss that's essentially just teeth. It's not tender, it's not slow and definitely, not something Jack should be amused at – but apparently the display of aggression just earned Rhys a ticket to what seemed like an overriding sexual drive. This isn't the right thing to do. Rhys doesn't wanna do the right thing now, he wants to ravage the older man against him and make him eat his words. He feels guilty again about even thinking that he actually enjoyed trying to beat the shit out of Jack. Doesn't stop Rhys from tearing every layer of clothing from Jack's chest, ripping a few seams in the process. He hums appreciatively at the muscles tensing ever so slightly under his touch, a curious look in his face when he fondles the scars all over his torso. Rhys is surprised the scars remain even in a cloned body, but he suspects Jack is proud of each and every one of them.

“I would  _ love _ to keep this makeout session vanilla, but pumpkin, we have  _ harder _ things to delve into. If you catch my drift.”

Jack licks his lips in a sensual way that makes Rhys tremble in anticipation. Unexpectedly, the older man switches position with Rhys, tired of the power play going on between them. As big and manly hands pull out Rhys' shirt up, exploring his chest with not so gentle touches, the young man releases a small whimper. 

Jack leans forward against Rhys, his crushing weight pressing the other against the floor and his breathing suddenly sounding ragged and torn. His exhales came out as heavy pants against his neck as he bites down and begins to leave a rouge trail among the tattoos,  each hickey blossoming from the pale skin as a godly gift.  When Rhys’s mind catches up with him, the same burn of arousal hits him and suddenly  they're eager – too eager – to get their hands on each other,  hands grappling at each other . 

When Jack presses his leg between Rhys' a spark of lust goes up their spines, the amount of clothing between them nothing but one step closer to where things start to get interesting. Belts clink on the floor and Jack wastes no time in getting their pants off as fast as he can. 

Only when they're skin to skin, he seems to slow down to give appreciative and longing glances down the other’s long and slender legs ,  the rough pads of his thumbs  tracing patterns  on the upper thighs that would soon be around Jack's waist.  Rhys feels his erection rub against Jack’s own and with a muffled moan begins to thrust his hips up for more friction but Jack quickly keeps him in place.

“So eager, cupcake. You’re really into this whole murdering thing, huh? That’s my boy.”

Rhys doesn't reply, compliant to Jack's ministrations not caring about the hard surface against his back. Jack was now, he realized, expecting this whole scenario to unfold. The CEO pulls a silver foil out of his pocket, ripping it off with his white teeth. Rhys watches, entranced, as Jack lubes his dick leisurely, up and down like nobody's business. 

Far too  caught up in Jack’s ministrations to resist, he inwardly groaned when Jack swept him up to wrap his legs around Jack’s waist. Rhys completely lost all coherent thoughts when Jack presses into him, moist and cold, forcing its entrance. Taking his sweet time to do so, the king of Hyperion controls himself to not pound the other man into wall, giving Rhys a lengthy moment to adjust. He wants Rhys to feel everything, every single sensation of being fucked by the most powerful man in the universe.

The moment Rhys relaxes around him though, Jack grabs the red tie and pulls the young man towards him. He steals a rough and thoroughly kiss, swallowing every hungry moan that escaped from the cyborg's throat. Jack finds a steady rhythm within Rhys, his cock enveloped by warmth and delicious attrition. He can tell Rhys wants to grab anything other than the icy tiles behind him, confused as to where to support himself through this ride. Jack's fingers dig deep into Rhys' behind, breathing rapidly and parting himself from the now flushed and abused lips.

" H-harder ," Rhys moans quietly, embracing Jack's torso and dragging his nails across the tanned skin. That elicits a guttural moan from Jack, his pace increasing speed and impatience runs through him as if he just couldn't get enough from Rhys. The young man moans deliriously as he's stretched open, Jack is so deep inside him and hitting that sweet spot over and over again. He slides a hand to give his cock swift and rapid strokes, the sensation overwhelming and more than welcome. But he needs more. "I  s-said harder, goddamn it!"

“Fuck, kitten…”

Jack promptly fucks him harder and rougher, Rhys' back hitting the floor with merciless abandon and he just doesn't care. He's angry again, angry that Jack can manipulate him this easily – but that only fuels the pleasure and he can feel that familiar tingling within him telling him how close he is to coming undone. Rhys mouths Jack's neck and sinks his teeth in, drawing blood from it and making a mess out of the wound. Again, this doesn't bother Jack. As a matter of fact, the old man erratic breathing somehow gives out that he's close to the edge too.

Rhys doesn't need any more stimuli than this, he gives a final jerk before moaning loudly and coming into his fist, semen shooting all over the blue stripped shirt. Jack is still moving inside him, animalistic growls against Rhys’ neck tickling the already oversensitive skin there. Small droplets of blood were dotting his face like a Pollock painting, random and abstract tears running down on his cheeks. Rhys doesn’t react anymore, he doesn’t have the energy to do so and he lets Jack use his body at will. There’s an uncomfortable feeling at the back of his mind, buzzing incessantly as to force the man to acknowledge the fact that everything Jack does is part of a bigger puzzle. He’s merely a lonely piece of it that screams vulnerability. Rhys doesn’t want to be under Jack anymore, but he endures watching the CEO’s wild expression when he comes deeply into him.

They’re both panting as the sound echoes through the office, a mess and tangle of limbs in the amethyst floor. The regret is eating Rhys from inside out, thinking mainly that Vaughn would never forgive him for choosing Jack over him. That’s why he should’ve never, ever–

“Oh and by the way, pumpkin, your friends are still alive.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf, Rhysie? I  _ said _ … your friends are still alive, I lied, yadda yadda yadda. It was priceless to see your reaction, kitten. Welcome to Hyperion, baby.”

With a loud sigh, Rhys wraps his arm around Jack lazily and pokes the bloody bite from earlier intentionally. No excuses, no apologies – that’s how Jack ruled Hyperion and that’s how it would be from now on. Who needed excuses when you have this kind of power? Rhys hated himself for giving in, but couldn’t deny: nearly killing Jack might’ve not been the worst experience he had in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr: [@accaciax](http://accaciax.tumblr.com).


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